d his great eyes upon Landless. "If he calls my
name," said the wicked brain behind the blandly smiling face, "shall I,
or shall I not--? It is many minutes to moonrise yet."

But Landless did not call him. He passed him by as he had passed Trail,
and named another rustic at some little distance from the mulatto, then
a Fifth Monarchy man, then a veteran of Cromwell's, then the plantation
miller and the carpenter, then two more Oliverians, then more peasants.
Each man, as his name was called, stepped forward into the lengthening
line that faced the master and his party, standing with pistols leveled
and cocked; and each man bestowed upon Godfrey Landless a curse, or a
look that was bitterer than a curse.

"Humfrey Elder!" called Landless.

The old butler shot from out the crowd, as though impelled from a
catapult. "Your Honor!" he screamed, "the man as says _I_ plot against a
Verney, lies! I that fought with your Honor at Naseby! I that you
brought from home with you when Mistress Patricia was a baby, and that
has poured your wine from that day to this! I plot with these
rapscallions and Roundheads! Your Honor, he lies in his throat!"

"Fall into line, Humfrey," said his master quietly; "I will hear you out
later, but now, obey me."

The watchful eyes of Luiz Sebastian were growing very watchful indeed.

"Regulus!" cried Landless.

Under cover of a burst of protestation from Regulus, the Turk whispered
to the mulatto, "By Allah! this is the slave you would not approach! You
said he would die for his master."

"He is not of them," returned the other. "St. Jago! if I understand it!
But what can it matter? The moon will rise in less than an hour."

"Dick Whittington!" cried Landless.

There was a moment's silence, broken by the mulatto, who had stepped out
of line, and now stood facing the party from the great house. "I grieve
to say, senors," he said in his silkiest tone, "that the poor Dick was
but now taken with the fever, and lies in a stupor within his cabin.
To-morrow, perhaps, he will be better, and will answer when you call."

"That is your cabin, just beyond you there, is it not?" demanded
Landless.

"Assuredly," with a quick glance. "And what then?"

Landless raised his voice to a shout. "Dick Whittngton!"

"Mother of God! what do you mean?" exclaimed the mulatto. "Your voice
cannot reach him, deaf and dumb from the fever, lying in his cabin at
the far end of the lane."

"Dick Whittington!" agai